


Constants

by Agxtsuma



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Gen, Ignore this I write some headass shit when I'm tired, Seonghwa has depression and anxiety, also I know it's bad I haven't written anything in over a year oops, is this a vent fic or something like why did i write this, like bad, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23176816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agxtsuma/pseuds/Agxtsuma
Summary: But that boy was always there. Sitting at the fountain. Staring.Seonghwa wondered what exactly he was staring at.It gave him some sort of sick satisfaction to look at that man everyday; to know he wasn't the only one with nothing to do. Nothing to look forward to except a miniscule paycheck from his dead end job every Friday.
Relationships: KINDVE NOT REALLY??????? NOT REALLY, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	Constants

**Author's Note:**

> I GENUINELY JUST WROTE THIS AS A WARMUP I don't want to call it a study but it.. kindve is? Idk it was a warm-up

He was always there.

There weren't a lot of constants in Seonghwa's life - depression was one, maybe (not that he'd admit it out loud), and a general sense of impending devastation, and if he was having one of his better days he would say his friends Yeosang and Mingi (on his worse days he would conclude that everybody left eventually, so what was the point of giving himself false hope).

But that boy was always there. Sitting by the fountain. Staring.

Seonghwa wondered what exactly he was staring at.

It gave him some sort of sick satisfaction to look at that man everyday; to know he wasn't the only one with nothing to do. Nothing to look forward to except a miniscule paycheck from his dead end job every Friday.

Whenever he got close enough to see the boy's expression, the look of utter despair and contempt on his face, he would quickly turn to hide the near-morbid grin forcing itself across his features.

Hongjoong, he found out later, was the boy's name. He worked at one of the mall kiosks that Seonghwa would always get offered a product from ("would you like to try our new nail polish? It's said to-") and consequently decline, wishing the tinny voice of whatever salesperson was imposing on his peace would go far, far away, and never come back.

It always came back.

It was on a Friday afternoon, mid-August, that it happened. Seonghwa had finally gotten off work and was carrying a leftover coffee (only upside of working at a shitty mall Starbucks: he got to take the drinks nobody claimed). As he walked he lifted his head and searched for the fountain.

Hongjoong's fountain.

And Hongjoong was looking back at him, making eye contact, staring. Staring. He was always staring but he had never stared at Seonghwa before.

Seonghwa writhed under his gaze, suddenly nauseous. Squeezing his cup until cracks laced up the sides. The coffee spilled over his fingers. Onto the floor. People were watching. Everybody was looking at him, weren't they? Everybody was staring. Staring. Looking at him. Judging him. Hongjoong was still watching and he was the one who smiled this time - less of a smile, more of a grimace, actually. Seonghwa wanted to sneer. To spit. To laugh and point out how macabre the grin twisting Hongjoong's features was; how ugly it made him look. But everybody was watching. They were always watching.

Seonghwa turned and left.

The next day, Hongjoong didn't show up at the fountain. He had always showed up, everyday, until today. Seonghwa went home.

He didn't have any coffee today.

At home he opened the small notebook he kept on his kitchen counter, flipping through the pages until he got to the one labelled "CONSTANTS" in blocky letters. When he put his nose to the page and closed his eyes he could still smell the chemicals of the Expo marker he had used to write it. His therapist had said keeping a list of constants in his life might help him keep calm when he felt everything was falling apart. The therapist was gone now. The marker was also gone - suspicion held that Yeosang had stolen it when he visited. He wasn't allowed to visit anymore.

Shaking himself out of his reverie Seonghwa quickly drew his eyes over all the words on the page, trying to absorb them.

1\. Work  
2\. Meds  
3\. Yeosang taking my things  
4\. Mingi taking Yeosang's things

At 5 he paused, uncapped his marker, and crossed out "Hongjoong."

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone else with anxiety ever feel like everybody is staring at you and judging you yeah gang gang.
> 
> Pls lmk if this was like... Readable
> 
> Also I'll probably write something similar to this in the future but make it like. Not braindead. Yeah


End file.
